


you sit by me (and everything's fine)

by EmAndFandems



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Banter, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:35:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24380662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmAndFandems/pseuds/EmAndFandems
Summary: “That’s my seat you’re in,” Crowley repeats.Aziraphale pats the bench. “It’s a bench, Crowley, there aren’t any seats. Come, sit down already. You’re keeping the ducks waiting.”(There are no sides anymore.)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 148





	you sit by me (and everything's fine)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Queen's "Heaven For Everyone." Posted for GOC2020's "Glorious" theme. Again, this first appeared on tumblr @lazarusemma!

“No, that’s my seat. Budge up.”

Aziraphale looks up at Crowley, perplexed. “What?”

“That’s my seat you’re in,” Crowley repeats.

Aziraphale pats the bench. “It’s a bench, Crowley, there aren’t any seats. Come, sit down already. You’re keeping the ducks waiting.”

Crowley is still refusing to be seated. “Hang the ducks.”

“Is there any particular reason you should be so insistent on having this patch of bench, dear? Something I should know about? Is there a treasure map inscribed in the wood, perhaps. Maybe the contours of the back are just perfectly suited to the silly way you sit against it.”

Scowling, Crowley shifts from one foot to the other. “S’just my seat is all. That’s my side of the bench. It’s how we always sit when we sit here.”

Aziraphale smiles at him. “I thought you were the one who said we had no sides anymore?”

“That is— this is absolutely the wrong context for those words. You’re twisting them all out of shape.” But Crowley’s fighting back an answering smile, and Aziraphale knows it.

Good. Time to press his advantage. “We could try something new, couldn’t we? I’m sure you could manage to adjust your sprawl accordingly. Give you a new view of the other side of me. It’s a wonder you can recognize me from the right.”

Crowley sputters, just as Aziraphale intended. “Recog— I’d know  _ you  _ anywhere. D’you seriously reckon—?”

“Anywhere?” Aziraphale says sweetly. “Even, say, from the wrong side of a park bench?”

He pats the empty spot again. Crowley sits, or rather throws himself back in it so as best to suggest that limbs are an unfamiliar concept.

“Anywhere,” Crowley says again, more insistently. “Even in the darkest night in the darkest room with a hundred other people.”

Aziraphale finds this far more amusing than Crowley probably expected.

“What?”

“I didn’t realize you read Liz Carlyle,” Aziraphale tells him, trying and failing to hide a most un-angelic smirk. Crowley freezes in place. “Oh dear, I do hope you weren’t trying to pass the sentiment off as your own.”

“The sentiment _is_ my own,” says Crowley defensively. “Words... not so much. I could do a bit of Will’s stuff if you’d like that better.”

“I didn’t say I disliked it. Have you got the food for the ducks? I seem to have misplaced it.” Aziraphale glances over to Crowley and has to catch his breath. In the late afternoon light, from this angle, he glows. Aziraphale reaches out a hand, overcome with the urge to touch and to hold this glorious creature. “Oh, Crowley…”

Crowley is entirely unaware of the reaction Aziraphale is having to his looks. “No, I haven’t brought any duck food, that’s really more your thing. Why are you staring at me?”

It is a moment before Aziraphale can speak. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispers, awed.

Crowley grins. “Okay,” he says. “Not too hard on the eyes yourself.”

This is more than Aziraphale can stand for, even in this trance. He frowns. “You told me I was the only beautiful thing in the world.”

“Don’t cast up to me the follies of my youth.”

“It was yesterday.”

“And? I’m older now, aren’t I?” Crowley’s smugness is endearing rather than obnoxious. Aziraphale wonders how that is possible. Eighth wonder of the world, he is.

Aziraphale concedes that he cannot find fault in such impeccable logic. Crowley adjusts his position on the bench so he’s leaning in closer; Aziraphale surprises him by closing the distance, because it’s been a solid twenty minutes since their last kiss, and that simply will not do.

“I’ll have to sit here more often,” says Crowley, when they’ve recovered their breath, “if you’re going to react like that when I do.”

The bench had very little to do with it, but Aziraphale allows it to take the credit anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Crowley was caught quoting Liz Carlyle's _Never Romance A Rake,_ and yes, it is exactly what it sounds like.  
> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment?


End file.
